The Pieces Coming Together
by KrisEleven
Summary: Written for the Midwinter challenge on TPE: Writing Challenges. Some sort-of-drabbles of the four's first few weeks at Discipline. Briar is hungry, Tris scowls, Daja gets in a food-fight, and Sandry fails to have airs.


A/N A drabble-esque series written for one of the Midwinter challenges over at TPE. The whole thing takes place in the first few weeks, or so, of the four's arrival to Discipline Cottage. They were written in approximately one hour, so pardon any awful ones. :)

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><p><span>Night<span>

Briar slipped from his window and wandered the temple in the dark, sometimes. He pretended it was to keep his skills fresh for the night when he saw something worth leaving this cushy place to steal – and _not_ to stave off the loneliness he's feeling without any mates around him, in a room on his own.

House

Tris sniffed as they walked up to the cottage where she was to be moved (again). It was just a house, she thought irritably, wondering why Niko and Moonstream talked about it as if it could _save _her.

Stirring

Briar eyed the bubbling pot suspiciously, more than a little concerned with what was happening to the food. Briar had never cooked a meal – hadn't had one cooked _for_ him, either, that he could remember – and he wasn't sure what to think as Lark put the perfectly fine food into the water and told him to stir occasionally. He pocketed some first, just in case the complications ruined it.

Stocking

Tris eyed her ruined stocking with a scowl that kept the tears away. It was her best pair, and she hadn't really ever had any skill at mending. She could obviously not afford a new pair and she would soon look _poor._

"I can fix it, Tris," Sandry said from over her shoulder. "Give it to me."

"It's _fine_."

"I insist." Tris looked at her stocking and gave in to her steady blue gaze and hint of a smile. Just this once.

Chimney

Daja watched from her window, most nights, as the boy escaped the tiny cottage in a dozen different ways. _He'll be climbing the chimney next_, she thought, amused, _and he'll some out on the roof darker than me!_ It didn't occur to her to join him, even though on those nights she would sit up alone until long after his return, waiting until her memories of family and waves and trangshi could be put aside and she could sleep.

Care

Sandry did care about having these strange children like her, even if Tris glared and snapped and Briar was utterly _alien_ sometimes and Daja probably looked at her as a _kaq_ and a noble one as well (just a girl, she had thought). Patience, she told herself in Pirisi's voice, you'll find someone who'll care about you, someday.

Children

Rosethorn wouldn't admit, even to Lark, that children made her nervous. These four were so much more broken than the novices they usually cared for and she worried, always, that she would do more harm than good.

Nestled

Briar had fallen asleep in the garden. Rosethorn found him nestled amongst her vegetables like he belonged there.

Sugar

Sandry added sugar to his bowl because she liked to eat it that way. Rosethorn added cinnamon because she couldn't stand to see that many sharp angles on a child that young.

Clatter

Lark winced and tried not to smile at Rosethorn's expression as three sets of shoed feet clattered down the steps. She always forgot how _loud_ they were.

She jumped when Rosethorn shouted: "Stop _running_ inside! And, boy, put on your shoes and keep them on, or I'll know, I promise you _that_!"

So _loud_, she thought, laughing into her yarn.

Snow

Daja and Sandry looked at each other helplessly. It was so hard to describe to people who had never seen it before. Tris looked disgusted with frustration and Briar didn't even believe it _existed_.

Sleigh

Daja had made it to lug her materials back from Frostpine's, but Briar decided that pulling Sandry in it was more fun and Sandry decided it was definitely _not_ beneath her dignity to cling to the sides, laughing until she gasped as he pulled her across the grass.

Dash

Sandry and Daja could run, if they wanted to, but Briar had lived on the edge of danger since he was four and when they took it in their heads to run, neither girl could hope to catch him.

Toys

Rosethorn and Lark filled their days with chores, lessons and enough routine to straighten the wildness in them all. They had not – any of them – been the type of children who had time for play, and so didn't know enough to know it was odd that ten year olds found even spindles, trowels, hammers and books delightful.

Twinkling

Lark was the kindness and light in Discipline, but Briar liked it best when Rosethorn threw back her head and laughed, then looked at him with her dark eyes still twinkling with laughter.

Prancing

Briar laughed as Daja used her trangshi staff to practice some forms in the garden. She ignored his comments on twinkle-toe girls dancing in the sunlight until he gave in and asked her to teach him. It took a long time, but Daja was the steady one.

Bound

They had been bound to end up together the moment it was decided they would all go to Winding Circle. They were too (stubborn, angry, broken, magic, special, wilful, talented, different) _much_ to be handled by anyone other than Lark and Rosethorn.

Cherry

Briar scaled the tree as they walked together. Tris crossed her arms and pretended not to be bothered that she was too embarrassed to admit that _she_ was never going to get up into those branches. She scowled and wondered how she had gotten talked into spending _any_ time alone with –

He dropped to the ground nearby with his shirt tied around the cherries picked, half for him and half for her.

Bow

Briar bowed mockingly when she was at her most stubborn, and it always deflated her airs immediately. It was nigh on impossible to keep ones nose in the air and self in a temper when he took it upon himself to mock her about it. The only time it was _him_ thrown off was when he learned she actually _was _a Duchess, somewhere.

Jelly

Daja wiped the fruit preserves off her face, not sure if they were the result of one of Briar's not-surprisingly well-aimed throws, or from when she had smeared them in his hair and then proceeded to pull him into a headlock. They didn't look at each other as they cleaned because laughter would make the process longer, and the cottage could _not_ look like this when Rosethorn walked in. Tris and Sandry were supposed to be the silly ones...

Plump

Tris hated the word, but Briar rather liked the way she looked. There had been no one with any extra weight on them, on the streets. It was part of her absolute uniqueness to him – he had never met her like before.

Elf

Sandry made mention of a common children's story and was shocked when she was met with blank faces. "You have never heard that story? I thought every child would!"

Both Tris and Briar looked guarded and uncomprehending. She felt a wave of understanding: there had been no one there to _tell_ it to either of them. She smiled, grabbed their arms, though they both grumbled, and changed the subject.

Happy

Sandry and Briar were mock-arguing until they, Lark and Daja were in stitches, and even Rosethorn and Tris were smiling.

Good

They found each other on the roof, in the sunlight, and they felt... safe. It was the first time in a long time for all of them.

It was a good start.


End file.
